Lessons learned from squirrels

What I learn from squirrels
as they hurl their selves from nests
hurl their selves into the Everyday without reserve
hit the bark of the trees empty bellied
at the first thread of light
and don’t look back

they burrow with purpose
noses eyes inches from Reality
fur quaking to something
nerves tuned to It
antennas in their tails
unspoiled instinct seeks It
their claws cling to It
responding to Its Beckoning

-theirs is everyones Reality
theirs simply lacks the buffers
theirs is simply stripped of
false comforts false dependence
closer to Reality—

not knowing what or where or when
but somehow they find It
their little bodies hold trust that holds them
They understand this whole Thing in a way
that I could stand to learn from

the show MUST go on…

Lookin at the world thru these filters,
helter skelter isn’t so bad from inside of these shelters.
The acid rain that pelts the— melts the man
almost looks funny if you squint from inside these shelters
from behind these candid cameras with closed shutters
And as we milk the udders of this mad golden cow
the blood that pours forth looks pure somehow.
Somehow rocket ships filled to the brim with clips of apocalypse sounds pleasant from the right lips.
Newsclips of bombs over some distant city Baghdad
it doesn’t look half bad kinda like fireworks exploding a grab bag.
The thick glass that surrounds helps to drown the sounds out.

The show must go on.

The machines that build the machines that program the robots that provoke the warlocks into action divided into factions plus the subtraction of intellectual properties substituted with rocket piss and a desire for monopoly total hypocrisy one face exchanged for another as quickly as a handshake bitter enemy to lover to hate and back at the drop of a hat.  Black cats and witchcraft and magic beanstalks fiends walk near and far and clips loaded wit bullets christened in the name of the stars.

The show must go on.

I been listenin so long that Im believing the lies.
How can’t I go on? How can’t I go numb? How can I go numb? How do I Get a handle All thumbs and all the thumbs is up all I hear is redrum all I see is heads hung in the bottom rung to the top rung.
the show must go on. Bring it on.

Let freedom ring it on. Sing the same songs. Everybody scream At the top of your lungs. The show must go on. The show must go on for sure- fa show. We mourn and we go on keep blowing on the same old horns the same old ways born again quarantined nothing seems the same I rub my eyes waitin for this mirage to disappear outta my face But I go none.

This is blood for blood till there aint none left
The show must go on.

The nature of Doubt.

Doubt—-
One syllable.
Five letters.
Heavy as chains and fetters.
Derived from the latin ‘dubitare’
its point blank in the face—stare, not backing down do you dare stare back?
dare to bear the facts to take its burden off your back
dare not crumble under it?
can’t say myself I never numbed from the sum of it and I know some of it
can’t say I never went numb from under it nor fumbled under it
never trembled like a leaf in the storm and thunderous
cant say the weight of five letters never got the better of me
never chained and fettered me overfilled me can’t say never
can’t say I  never went numb from the sum of its effects
got to let it go

Doubt—
its the cloud that surrounds like dolby stereo
seeking to give you an earlier burial
enwrapping enfolding bellowing very high very low
it’s a wall that some have elected to drag to and fro
putting in their path everywhere they go
ensuring they can’t pass it
gripping it so tight that their knuckles turn bone stone white
have to let it go oughta let it go

it’s the concrete in the shoes you cant move as fluid as you could without it
doubt– it’s
the cinderblocks in the socks that keep you glued to the same spot—
and the spot is the box that’s imaginary that you drew around yourself
but its so REAL by now because you’ve let it become so in order to reverse that
all you have to do is

let it go. let it go.

on pain

Pain is purifying. Pain is purifying for a believer.

pain is to blossom as broken egg to omelette  –
pain is as pawn-into-king-or-queen  as wing to bird
as chisel and stone tablet-
as key is to chains that bind you to a false image that pain came to dash into a thousand pieces
against a Perfect Polished Reality of Realities
pain came to free you to find you you to allow you to see you
in all of your beautiful weakness

-that you might remember things forgotten
that you might Submit

pain is to learn yourself through means you would never elect on your own—
a way of growing that would be foreign to the human should we be left to our own devices

even now as i write this-
i must remind myself that despite my absolute belief in these words
that when pain strikes
i will be reminded of how much i do not like it
to say that “pain is not easy to bear”
would be an understatement
as it stares you deep in your inner eye-
grabs you by the shoulders
and shakes you, reminds you- “this ain’t Heaven”

a bitter medicine
that can cure a disease that who knew was there
To explore the crevices to remove things within yourself that,
“why who had any idea that was there?”
how else would “that” be exposed and uprooted?

Within it can be found the peace of life,
within it can be found this piece of coal under the pressure of ten million pounds of earth preparing it that it may give birth to a diamond that resides inside awaiting to burst forth how else would one discover what worth one had without the test of such weight such feats?

its existence improbable impossible without that is what it means to bear the weight of life

pain is to you- as heat to metal
removing impurities
the metal must be treated- heated to extreme degrees to be prepared to be cast
as an unyielding sword in the face of life like “en garde”

our metal preparing to be cast as an unyielding sword in the face of life like “en garde”

–

“We do not impose on any one any more than they can stand.” The Qur’an, Surah Mu’minun: verse 62

maybe they were angels-

Maybe they were angels –outside the mosque that night maybe they come down that night to see some things —the way that woman appeared— her dark clothing in the night made her appear half there–face bobbing glowing inside the scarf– came up to me in my car caught me off guard the way she came up to my window–

please brother– Assalamu-alaikum– I roll my car window down or maybe I didn’t can’t remember maybe just talked to her through the cracked window – I say “Waalaikumassalam” — do you have money for food?– she said something like that and makes the gesture with her hand the eating gesture lifting her hand to her mouth. maybe she was holding a sign too didn’t read the sign just watched her hand go to her mouth– “money for food??”  I say  — yes she said– “to eat?” –yes–well I’m shoving my hand in my pocket knowing I just gave the last $5 to my brother for pizza but hoping maybe to find the truth there…or maybe just digging in my pocket for the sake of digging — maybe she’s divorced– “well i don’t have any cash”–  ok brother thank you *inshaAllah— she said maybe something like that she grabs her son’s hand or maybe it ain’t her son and they go disappearing falling into the dark– maybe she’s a widow–

I was sitting there feeling something so I drove around and there they were– almost out of sight it seemed in the middle of the parking lot but they reappeared bobbing, half there– I did some awkward maneuvering with my car to turn around in a tight spot and they were bobbing around in some darkish corner of the parking lot– I called the boy and he comes running over… and I ask “do you speak english” and he says yeah and the woman or the girl comes up and I ask “will you be here i’ll bring some money– wait here” and  she says ok or inshaALlah or something else or maybe nothing else, can’t remember maybe her husband made her come out there.

I drove off and see a blond girl sitting there in front of the mosque as all the people are pouring out– she was just sitting there on the curb looking lost and she looks up at me so I waved and she waved back– maybe it’s a scam maybe she’s a scam artist playing on people’s sympathies but then maybe it’s all one big scam in some way or another when you think about it–  but the Prophet never questioned he just gave when he was asked, wow-that’s real  doesn’t matter anyway if it’s all a scam it’s the intention right? — I drove to the atm got some money- not much- and I drove back and found my brother walking and I started asking him “hey did you see a….” and I as I said that there they were–the woman or girl and the boy sitting there almost out of sight again half gone again then they reappeared–and I gave the money to my brother through the car window because he was closer to the boy and weird how he happened to be walking right there right then in-between me and the woman or girl and boy sittin there half vanishing–maybe it was something maybe it was nothin– and my brother hands it to the boy and he gave it to the woman or girl whoever she was– so then she says to me, or my brother, or both of us, or neither of us, “inshaAllah, inshaALlah–“and they seemed to me to be disappearing right there and I said “inshaAllah” and i drove off

-and maybe if you had asked around maybe would have found out something I didn’t like something about that woman or girl and that boy didn’t want to know didn’t need to know  maybe I wouldn’t have maybe they came down that night to see some things and maybe they saw maybe not

maybe they were angels– maybe they were human–maybe it doesn’t matter —

maybe.

* inshaAllah is an arabic word that means “if God wills”

on slaying the ego etc

and should u feel some need to wage war might i suggest that you
try waging war on your ego to begin with —there is a feat of strength
and a victory to prize with eyes wide open
try facing the floor with your forehead pouring your insides forth without remorse
leaving no place for pride to hide
out no back alleys no side routes
no wormholes to weasel through

leave no stone unturned in this manhunt woman hunt
be swift in striking down in holding to account in demanding recompense
from this thief who poaches the lands you worked so hard to till
from this brute king who seeks to seize your land by forceful will
and he is your lower self–it is no foreign threat
and so go and actively seek to check his aggression

and race towards good deeds as you would towards a cure for a disease
were you sick
because— understand you ARE sick
because your sister is because your brother is
and if one part of the body is sick then the whole body is sick.
indeed crawl if you have to
and there’s no need for lip service in this sincerity-vacuum—

so say “peace be upon you” and grasp what it means to truly want peace for someone
i mean peace be upon you
do like the dawn do—do like the dawn do with the night
what i mean is strike balance between striving for perfection
and being content with what you were blessed with.

expect little in return when you extend your hand
and you will be pleased with what comes back to you

and “read” because the substance that you sprung from was low
now look at you–a being who strives towards a destiny!!
if you want a bone to pick start with the skeletons in your closet

the ones with a mustard seed’s weight of arrogance in the heart
them too heavy to take flight and depart
from an earthly realm
sky’s too high to tuck into a a belt loop so stop trying to–
but do how the sky do

it is wise to stay alert and to be prepared
but to roam around with your sword unsheathed
is to invite war to your doorstep so please be alert of the energy that you send forth into the world

and should you feel the need to wage war–start with the ego first
for there is a victory to celebrate